Labor of Love
by Mingsmommy
Summary: Grissom and Sara attend a class together. HAPPY BIRTHDAY KRISTEN ELIZABETH!


**Disclaimer:** I do not own CSI or any of its characters. Please don't sue.  
**Pairing:** Grissom/Sara  
**A/N:** Thanks to dreamsofhim for the super speedy Beta. She is the absolute best.

This is a birthday fic for Kristen Elizabeth who wanted Grissom in a Lamaze class. I wrote something else and then came to my senses and wrote FLUFF! HAPPY BIRTHDAY, KRISTEN!

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"And I'm telling you that someone with 20 years of experience teaching the subject might know a thing or two you aren't aware of despite your vast education, Dr. Grissom." Sara was trying desperately to maintain her composure, but her patience was straining its limits and it was showing in her voice as it bounced off the gleaming hardwood floors of the hallway where they stood. 

Grissom turned an incredulous face to her. "I didn't say she didn't know what she was talking about, I merely asked…"

"About 800 questions, some of them so in depth an obstetrician specializing in underwater circus births couldn't answer." She blew out a breath as she carefully sat down on the blue cushions of the couch in the hallway outside their classroom. The Women's Center was decorated in rich jewel tones in an attempt to convey warmth; though the outcome was attractive, the place still had an unmistakable institutional feel to it.

"You may not realize this but you're being far too technical for this class." She counted off points on her fingers as she said them. "You're holding up the lecture, scaring the crap out of half of the people in there and irritating the other half. I don't understand why you…"

The touch of his hand on her face stopped her tirade. "I'm sorry." He gently stroked his thumb across her cheek.

Sara squeezed her eyes shut briefly and sighed. She opened her eyes and met her husband's contrite gaze. "You're not usually like this, Gris. Tell me what's going on." Her hands came to rest on her rounded belly while she studied him, waiting for an answer.

He shrugged and a look of almost boyish shyness crossed his features. "I…uh…I'm nervous, I guess."

Her mouth dropped open, slightly. "Nervous? You're nervous?" She struggled to sit up a little straighter. "When you realize you have to expel a human being from **_your_** body through **_your_** vagina in approximately two and a half months, then you can be nervous."

She pointed to the classroom. "Did you see that video? Ugh." She shuddered. "I have changed my mind about this whole giving birth thing." She shook her head. "We should have adopted."

He squatted down in front of her. "You'll do fine." He placed his hand over hers where it rested on the bump of their child. "That's why we're here…to prepare us so you get through the birth as comfortably as possible." He nodded his head at her quirked eyebrow at his use of the word "us".

"I know you have to do all the work. But I'll do what I can to support and help." Gently, he placed a kiss on her forehead.

When she didn't respond immediately, he tilted his head to get a better look at her face, "Hey…we'll adopt the next one. But," he pressed into her stomach and felt a responding movement from within, "I think you're pretty much committed to this process now."

She released another sigh. "OK…I guess it is technically too late to back out now."

"Yeah, _technically_ I think it is," he smirked.

She regarded their entwined hands resting against her stomach. "So, what's your deal with the poor helpless Lamaze instructor? Why are you playing big bad biology hardass? I don't think some of those questions are even covered in med school."

"It's not the instructor, per se…" he looked sheepishly at her.

She rubbed a hand down his arm. "Well, what is it then, Babe? 'Cause if I've actually got to push something roughly the size of a bowling ball out of my body, I want as much preparation as possible and sitting out here is not preparing me for anything."

"I felt…those people…" He cleared his throat. "I am the oldest person in that room by at least ten years. They're all so young and I…jus suddenly felt old and out of place…and completely unprepared to be a first time father." He huffed. "I'm middle aged for god's sake, Sara."

"This is not news to me, Gris," she snorted. "I might have noticed your age on the marriage license."

Hanging his head briefly, he continued. "I guess, I don't know…I…my brain, my knowledge…until you, it's all I've ever had." He took a deep breath and shrugged. "I just suddenly had the need to use learning to prepare. If I can learn everything that might go wrong and how to handle it then I could protect you…both of you."

She made a wordless sound as she stroked his cheek.

"I want to be prepared and the only way I can do that is educate myself. It's almost as if I can prove I'm smart enough, I deserve to be with you." He looked slightly ashamed of himself and completely adorable.

"First of all, you're not only smart, you're a genius. Second, you don't just deserve to be here with me," she pressed his hand into her stomach, "with us…" she shook her head, " sometimes I still can't believe this is real…I can't believe how fortunate I am to have you and to be having a baby with you." She swallowed against the sudden lump in her throat, mentally cursing her hormones. "And third, it's five."

He wrinkled his brow in confusion. "Five? Five what?"

"You're only five years older than, what'd he says his name was, Butch?" He was still looking at her with a puzzled expression. "You know, the guy with the blonde with the majorly big boobs?"

"Sara!" He barked out a laugh. "She's pregnant…you may not have noticed but yours have…"

She swatted his arm. "Yes, I know she's pregnant; it may be why we're in the same Lamaze class. She's also a surgically enhanced ex-stripper…trust me, the purpose of those missiles is not nourishment of her progeny."

"Your point?" He was wondering how they had gone from a debate about their Lamaze instructor's knowledge of basic mammalian biology to discussing the breast size of the women in the room.

"Big Boobs' boyfriend, and he may be the biggest boob of all, said he was 46. Therefore, you are only five years older than at least one member of the class." She pursed her lips and thought for a moment. "The sad guy over in the corner looks like he may have had some face work done…he might be even older than you."

She nodded. "But, you know what? Even if you were twenty years older than everybody in that room, I'd still rather be here with you than any other man in the world. So, just get over that, ok? Because I need you to be paying attention so you can remind me what to do when I'm in labor and freaking out and threatening your reproductive equipment." She paused for breath and met his gaze. "Please help me by learning what will probably happen, not what _could_ happen."

Grissom studied his wife for a moment, then he leaned down and kissed the hand that rested against their child, the hand adorned with her wedding band. "I love you, Sara."

She laughed softly. "I know; I love you, too." She patted his head. "Come on, let's get back to class…I understand there's a whopper of a test in about 10 weeks."

He rose with a grunt and then helped her to rise.

As they opened the door to return to the classroom, the instructor was saying "New studies have shown that assisted childbirth coincides with bi-pedalism and while giving birth is a natural process, humans have evolved to seek help at…"

When Grissom started to interrupt he found his wife's elbow in his ribs and her voice in his ear, "Labor is not the only occasion where I might feel the need to threaten your reproductive equipment."

With a wide-eyed, "Yes, dear," he led her back to their seats.

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A/N 2: The research cited above is credited to anthropologist, Dr. Wenda Trevathan of New Mexico State University 


End file.
